Hellboy: The God Machine (24 page)

There were seven grenades left on his bandolier, enough for a pretty powerful explosion. He unhooked it. Pulling the pin on one of the remaining grenades, he struggled to maneuver himself into position. Deciding that he was as close as he was going to get, he brought the bandolier up over his head, and slammed it down.

The detonation of the single grenade caused the other six to explode. Hellboy was blown through the air, spinning out of control, eardrums thudding with the concussive force of the blast. He managed to stay conscious all the way down, his finger frantically hitting the ignition switch on the flight pack. Finally, the motor sputtered and the engines turned over.

Just before Hellboy hit the ground.

Absolom watched as the red-skinned figure fell from the sky.

Scrabbling across the rocky surface, the ground now slick with snow, he hoped that there was something he could do. Not long after the mysterious sphere of fire disappeared into the ocean, he had heard the sound of explosions and had seen that something--someone--was attacking the god.

He had known at once who it was.

Hellboy.

The red-skinned figure hit the island in a near-deafening explosion of fire. As Absolom approached, he saw that the figure lay crumpled upon the ground, his back burning. Carefully he moved closer, not sure if he was still alive.

"Son of a bitch," the red-skinned creature growled, rising up on all fours.

Absolom stepped toward him, scooping up handfuls of snow and throwing them onto his still-burning back.

Hellboy's hand shot out and grabbed hold of his arm.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his eyes glowing an eerie yellow.

Absolom didn't know whether or not to reveal his identity, but decided that he had nothing to lose. They would all likely be dead in a matter of hours anyway.

"I am Absolom Spearz," he said, and immediately the grip on his arm tightened.

Hellboy climbed to his feet, the remains of some kind of machine sloughing from his still-smoldering back to clatter onto the ground.

"You're the creep who started this whole mess," he said, and fumbled at his belt, as if looking for something that was no longer there.

"Aw, crap," Hellboy grunted, releasing Absolom's arm. "Must've lost it in the fight."

He was about to ask what it was that had been lost, when an ear-piercing wail filled the air. Both he and Hellboy stopped dead in their tracks, looking in the direction of the mournful cries. The beast had fallen backward to the island after the explosion and now he was slowly pulling himself to his feet. Swaying as he stood, the giant stumbled in their direction, his undamaged hand pressed firmly to his chest.

"What have you done?" he roared, removing his hand momentarily, revealing a large hole that had been blown in his center. As the hand came away, Absolom took note of objects falling from the open gash, spilling upon the island, some rolling down into the sea.

The items of faith.

"What have you insolent worms done?"

Absolom watched as Hellboy brushed himself off and started toward the furious creature.

"I never expected it to turn out like this," he called after the agent of the BPRD.

Hellboy stopped, reacting as if struck with a rock from behind. He spun around, a look of anger on his craggy face. "If I had a buck for every time I heard somebody say that. When are you jokers gonna learn? Voices whispering sweet nothings from the ether equals bad news."

He turned around again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to clean up the mess you've made--and then I'll deal with you and your ghostly pals."

Absolom watched him go off to battle, quite possibly even to his death, remembering the beauty of the voice from beyond that had promised to take the world by the hand and lead it toward paradise. He'd only wanted the best for the world--to take away its suffering, to make them all better.

Then from the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement, and turned to see a lone female figure moving through the storm. It was the woman, the wife of his own host body, Bethany Thomas, who had once housed the spirit of his friend and comrade--Geoffrey Wickham. She was moving over the rocky surface of the island, as if drawn to its edge.

Absolom followed. There was a part of him that wanted to apologize. He wanted her to realize that what he had done was not out of malice toward her and her family. They had simply been tools for the machinations of his much bigger--
more foolish
--plans.

She looked toward him briefly, her expression wan and vacant, her cheeks damp, snow clinging to her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he began, but the woman had already turned away.

She was looking out over the edge of the cliff, looking down at the sea.

And then he saw it--what had captured her attention.

The ocean had begun to boil--to bubble and churn. Something was coming.

Coming up from below.

Qemu'el dropped to his knees, looking for the objects that had fallen out of his body. The spirit storm that had been whirling above him was now dramatically diminished.

As Hellboy approached, he noticed some of the items scattered on the rocks and picked them up, throwing them as far away from the Archon as he could. He didn't want Qemu'el getting them back into his belly anytime soon.

One of his hooves connected with a loose stone, causing a bit of ruckus as it rolled down a slight incline.
So much for stealthy and catlike.

The creature looked up, what appeared to be a child's doll and some old, leather-bound books filling the palm of its large hand.

"You," he said, a tremor of intense anger in his metallic voice. He quickly shoved the objects he was holding into the jagged hole the explosives had blown in his chest. Unlike his other injuries, this one had not started to mend.

Hellboy noticed a Styrofoam cup at his feet and bent down to pick it up. "Do you know who drank from this cup?" he asked, holding it out to his adversary, wondering if an ancient angel of destruction had the first clue as to who the King really was.

"That's mine!" the metal creature shrieked, his massive metal bulk scrabbling across the rocky surface toward him like a runaway train.

Nothing worse than a desperate angel,
Hellboy thought, as the creature plowed into him, sending him flying through the air. It was a good thing that the island had so many nice, rocky surfaces to break his fall.

He landed on his back, doing a kind of somersault. His circus roll stopped only when he hit a collection of machines.
The gizmos used to open the door that brought Mr. Cranky Pants to Earth,
he thought.

Shaking his head to clear the ringing, Hellboy climbed to his feet just in time to see Qemu'el gliding through the air in his general direction. Strange crackling energy leaked from the jagged opening that had been blasted in his chest.
That can't be good.

Out of grenades, and doubtful that gunfire would have much of an effect, Hellboy looked for something he could use as a weapon.

The Archon landed in a crouch before him.

"I could not find all of my objects," he said, eyeing Hellboy with a curious tilt of his metal head. "But it does not matter. There is more than enough strength stored within this glorious form to commence my plans. But you..."

The Archon reached for him again, and Hellboy lunged for the nearest something he could find.

"You are an annoyance that must be dealt with before anything can commence. Who knows how much mischief you can cause underfoot?"

"You know me and the mischief," Hellboy grunted, hefting one of the machines off the ground and hurling it into Qemu'el's face. "Can barely get anything done without me fooling around."

The metal console bounced off Qemu'el's forehead with a loud clatter, barely slowing him down. Before he knew it, he was in the monster's hands again, being hauled into the sky.

Hellboy waited for his opportunity, feigning helplessness as the metal creature brought him closer.

"Such a troublesome little thing," he said, bringing Hellboy closer...closer...

Close enough.

Hellboy leaned forward in the giant's metal grip.

"You don't know the half of it, buddy," he growled, lashing out with his right hand, the rocklike fist connecting with the creature's face.

It was like hitting the side of a bell. A dull ring reverberated through the air. The angel was stunned, stumbling slightly to one side, his grip loosening just enough.

Hellboy grabbed hold of Qemu'el's thumb, wrenching it away from his body, practically tearing it from the being's hand.

He slipped from the thing's grasp and dropped to the ground.

The snow was falling more heavily; wind and visibility were even worse than before. Hellboy doubted that the cavalry would be arriving anytime soon.
What I wouldn't give for one surface-to-air missile right around now,
he thought, breaking into a run, trying to get some distance between him and the angry angel.
Blow this animated hunk of metal back to the junkyard.

At first he thought he was hearing things, the sound of a barking dog, completely out of place upon this barren hunk of rock, but that's exactly what it was. And through the whipping snow he saw it, a black dog, barking to beat the band, and it seemed as though it was trying to get his attention.

He sprinted away, the hair on the back of his neck bristling in anticipation over what the metal giant might try to do to him next. Hellboy chanced a quick glance over his shoulder to see that Qemu'el had actually stopped his pursuit and was kneeling down to retrieve some more of the objects that had fallen from his body.

Whatever, as long as it buys me some time,
Hellboy thought, coming to a stop in front of the dog.

The mutt wagged its tail happily as he approached, immediately conjuring childhood memories of his old pal, Mac. But then he noticed that the dog's front legs ended not with paws but with a pair of mechanical hands.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked the animal, never expecting the dog to answer.

"My name is Silas Udell, I'm one of the Electricizers," he answered through the electronic voice box bolted to his throat. "We were supposed to be bringing a loving god to Earth--to usher in a new age. We never expected this."

Hellboy was momentarily stunned, but vaguely recalled that Steve had said something about the family and a dog that was behaving strangely.
Any port in
a storm,
he thought, eyeing the possessed animal suspiciously.

The dog reached down with its artificial hands and picked up an object wrapped in soaking cheesecloth. "I was watching you fight the monster," the animal said, lifting it toward him. "And you dropped this. Thought it might be of importance."

Baxter's dagger,
Hellboy realized, taking the proffered item from the dog. "Thanks, I was looking for it."

The sound was sudden, like the roaring approach of a tidal wave, and he had barely gotten the dagger in his hand when Qemu'el was upon him.

The metal giant emerged from the storm, one of his fists pounding the ground mere inches from where Hellboy and the animal were standing. It didn't look good for the dog. Hellboy lost sight of the animal as he flew through the air, along with jagged pieces of island rock.

Hellboy managed to hold on to the dagger, ripping away the cloth to expose the ancient blade of exorcism. He wasn't sure what it could do for him, but beggars couldn't be choosers. His mind raced with the possibilities. If the dagger could drive a single spook from one body, how about a whole bunch of spooks trapped inside one giant? It was worth a shot, he thought, as he spun around to see the winged angel bearing down on him again.

Hellboy braced himself, running the blade across his left palm, feeding the Anyroda.

The angel snatched him from the ground, shaking him like a petulant child angered by one of his toys. Hellboy's arms flopped at his side, but he held on to the blade. The Archon stopped abruptly, taking notice of what was clutched in Hellboy's hand.

"What is this?" Qemu'el asked, tilting his head in a curious manner, his large headlight eyes boring into the agent. "That weapon--I sense within it enormous power."

Hellboy noticed that as the being spoke these words, his other hand had gone to the still-unhealed hole in his chest, fluttering around the wound.

"Power that I will need if I am to cleanse the world," he said dreamily.

Hellboy had an idea, a crazy one at best, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

"You want it?" he asked, waving the dagger around to get the creature's attention. "You can have it, my gift to you." Hellboy held it out at arm's length.

"This is a trick," Qemu'el growled, squeezing him tighter.

Hellboy felt as though his head might just pop from his body if he didn't play this right.

"Fine," he wheezed, having a difficult time breathing. "I'll just fling it in the ocean then." He made a move to do so, and Qemu'el reacted.

"Wait!" he screamed. "It must be mine."

The grip upon him lessened, and the Archon slowly--cautiously--brought him closer. One thing he could say about this particular ancient being, he wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

"Why would you give this to me?" Qemu'el asked suspiciously. "You are my enemy--the one that wishes to see me fail."

Hellboy shrugged. "You yourself said that we were kindred spirits. Maybe I've come to realize that you're right."

The angel of destruction thought about it for a moment, and Hellboy guessed it must have made sense.

Too much sense. He hated that the Archon could believe it, and how reasonable it would've seemed to just about anyone else. Anyone who didn't have to live it.

"Feed it to me," the creature commanded, then opened its cavernous maw, that horribly odd smell wafting out.

Hellboy wriggled around in the angel's grip, making a good show of it. "I'm afraid I'll miss," he told him. "Loosen your grip so I can get it in."